Ataraxis
by silver-tear-crystals
Summary: ".. but, upon his face, there was death .."


Title: ataraxis  
  
Author: silver-tear-crystals  
  
Genre: drama/angst NO SLASH/NO ROMANCE  
  
Summary: ".. but, upon his face, there was death .."  
  
Disclaimer: I'm the secret heir of JRR Tolkien. It's mine, MINE! Mwahahahaahaha! eyes lawyers .. umm.. you should ignore my last comments, really, I'm off my prescriptions again. :)  
  
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(( No matter how long he sat, nothing changed. Frodo's lips stood out starkly against his waxen skin, his hair cutting his forehead like knives, plastered to the tegument by sweat. His eyes were closed, and Sam heard the laboured breathing that threatened to halt at any moment. The elves had done alll they could; Elrond himself had come, but had looked grave, and tears had leeked onto Sam's cheeks, for Frodo was so helpless, so alone in the world of dreams and nightmares. There was nothing he could do for his master but wait, wait and hope that the Ringbearer would come out of his sleep, that the vile Nazgul's sword would be just a memory in years to come.  
  
Gandalf passed in often, as did Merry and Pippin. Sunlight framed their joy- free faces, the brilliance of Rivendell daunting and teasing. Autumn was upon the elven-home, though Sam had thought that nothing could rid the elve's of their majesty and ethereal existance. Even in the forlorn time of change, everything around him was still brilliant, still filled with beauty and secureness. All but Frodo's ghostly face. He was still beautiful: strangely elven for a Hobbit, but so saddened, and so tormented. The creased lines of his face made him look much older, yet weaker, then he really was.  
  
His master's hand was cold, frozen. Sam sat by his bedside almost both night and day, talking to him, refusing to let go. His fingers clasped about his friends, entwining about flesh that was lifeless and seemed to not benefit for the support.  
  
How long had it been since they had come to Rivendell? Days, weeks, months? The thought idely crossed Sam's mind every once in a while, mostly when Elrond chose to come by, and it was upon his face that with each passing moment, Frodo slipped further and further away, though not ever upon his lips. ))  
  
He felt warm and sleepy, and fresh scents wafted to his mind, the sweet melodies of birds, the hushed whisper of the leaves dancing with the breeze. He was deep within Rivendell, amongst the flowers and trees, amongst sunlight and honey, golden, emperial. Someone was calling his name, a soft, gentle voice, filled with tenderness and warmth.  
  
Sam, dear Sam..   
  
Frodo? he turned about sharply, searching the forest for his friend, yearning to know he was awake and alright.  
  
Sam, the voice proceeded, stronger, more urgent this time.  
  
Where are you?  
  
Sam!  
  
"Sam!" the tone sliced through Sam's dream, harshly re-connecting him to reality. His head shot up from his arms, where he had fallen asleep next to Frodo's bed. He rubbed his eyes and cast his friend a quick glance; his lips were moving, he was tossing his head slightly, brow shot down in .. pain? Yet he was not the one who had spoken.  
  
"Gandalf! What's wrong, what's with Frodo?" The younger Hobbit cried, upon seeing the wizard towering overhead.  
  
Gandalf looked worn, leaning heavily on his staff. Stray whisps of silver enshrouded his face, that which was crinkled with lines of anxiety. "Time is running out, I'm afraid. I have sent for Elrond. I'm sorry," he added. ".. Frodo is failing his struggle." His hand found Sam's shoulder, gripped it tightly.  
  
Sam felt something drop in his stomach. Once more, he surveyed his master's face. Sweat rolled down heavily from his brow, his lips moved in a jumble of whispers, and suddenly, he cried out, a tone that shattered Sam's heart. He felt Gandalf recoil.  
  
"How is he?" Both turned to see Elrond, a grave picture painted on his features, standing in the doorway.  
  
"Not good," the wizard answered, moving to let Elrond to Frodo's side.  
  
Sam looked from one to the other frantically. "But there is something we can do, isn't there?" His hand found his masters again.  
  
Elrond did not look at him, but rather bent over Frodo. "He is weak, at the bridge of his battle. It is all up to him now."  
  
It was in that moment, Sam realized, that not pain graced Frodo's features, but, upon his face, there was death. Tears seeped down his cheeks, splattered the white sheets. His heart was wripping into millions of pieces, oh how he wished there was something he could do to help.  
  
Dimly, he felt the presence of Gandalf and Elrond depart. They knew he needed to be alone with the Ringbearer, for neither of them knew how to bring Frodo back, save, their last chance being his best-friend.  
  
"Don't leave me," Sam whispered. "You must hold on. Not for the Ring, nor the others, but for me, and for Bilbo, and your life, Mister Frodo."  
  
(( "Samwise Gamgee, you come back here!" Bell Goodchild ordered, waving her wooden spoon about threateningly. Hands on her hips, the Hobbit-Lass flashed a withering glare at her son, letting her attention stray from the cake she was baking. Sam turned around, pouted at his mother, and scampered out the door after Daisy. Bell shook her head and threw up her hands in defeat.  
  
"Daisy, wait!" the young Hobbit cried, tottering after his sister. Sam was already bursting with energy and eager to follow his brothers and sisters on their wanderings.  
  
Daisy grinned to herself and slowed down, waiting for her brother to catch up. "Mother wanted you to stay inside, you little rascal," she said fondly. "Your coming off a cold."  
  
"Dun wanna be cold!" the child sniffled, wiping his nose on his sleep. "I wanna play outside!"  
  
"Well alright. I've been invited to lunch with Master Bilbo Baggins. Father will be there aswell, I suppose it won't hurt if you come, and you can meet Master Baggin's nephew, Frodo. Just moved to Bag-End from Buckland." Daisy scooped up her sibling into her arms and started down the bright, sunshine- warmed road. She let a frown slip onto her lips. "Poor little thing. His parents were killed in a boating accident. Apparently, he's still not over it." The sky was bright and clear, birds sung cheerful songs to eath other, and most Hobbits were out in the gardens working, or relaxing. Sam found the bright picture too much interesting to pay attention.  
  
"Welcome, welcome!" cried Bilbo when Daisy knocked on the big door to Bag- End. The older Hobbit instantly took Sam into his arms and planted a huge, sloppy kiss on the baby's cheek. Sam giggled and pulled away, whilst Daisy laughed and stepped inside.  
  
"How big he's grown!" Bilbo commented, leading the way into the living room. "A fine lad he is for his age, aren't you Samwise? Younger then my Frodo-Lad, but they'll get on well, I'm sure."  
  
Daisy smiled and went to sit beside her father at the table, who kissed her on the cheek. Bilbo sat down with Sam on his knees and then turned his attention back to his visotors, offering tea and snacks as all hosts should. Soon he were engrossed in another conversation with Hamfast.  
  
Sam pulled a large peice of a blackberry biscuit to him and began eating. However, quite a few blackberry biscuits later, the infant was bored listening to the adult's talk, and Daisy offered to go introduce him to Frodo.  
  
"A fine idea!" Bilbo cried. "He's outside in the garden!"  
  
Daisy picked Sam up and made her way through Bag-End to the backdoor. Sunlight streamed onto the flora outside, which was flourishing under her father's skillful hands. Hamfast Gamgee worked as a Gardener to Master Bilbo Baggins, but the two were also very good friends. In the corner, a figure lay in the grass, aimlessly staring at the sky.  
  
"Daisy!" A voice called from the living room. "Come and tell Mister Baggins how you managed to do up your corner of our garden at home! You could be the next to work for him, you know!" Daisy let her brother down and turned around. "Ok, Sam, I have to go. Go introduce yourself," she pointed toward the figure and left.  
  
Sam stood for a moment, then tottered forth. Either he was being ignored or the other child hadn't noticed him yet.  
  
"Hullo," he called shyly, half-way across the garden now.  
  
Bilbo Baggins's nephew raised his head. He had a mop of almost black curls, and startling, sky-blue eyes. They were narrowed and looked Sam over pointedly. "Who are you?"  
  
The younger Hobbit plopped down on the grass next to him. "I'm Samwise Gamgee! You must be Mister Bilbo's .. um.."  
  
"Nephew. I'm Frodo." He said this all very flatly, but Sam, being so young, didn't notice the haunted shadow that veiled his eyes. In his young age, he didn't know what death was, nor what to make of it.  
  
"Mister Bilbo didn't have a Nephew before." Sam blinked.  
  
A short laugh escaped Frodo's lips. "I've been living far away," he explained.  
  
"Wow! Like, with the elves?"  
  
"No. That was my uncle, Bilbo, he used to visit them. I lived in Buckland."  
  
"Didn't you like it there anymore? Is that why you came here?"  
  
Darkness fell across Frodo's face again. "No," he said softly, though much warmly then the icy tone that chipped his words before. "I just didn't have a reason to stay any longer."  
  
Sam didn't understand this, but sprawled down in the grass next to the older Hobbit. "Well, I'm glad you came!" he grinned. "I haven't really met anyone to play with other then my sisters and brothers."  
  
Frodo smiled back. "I used to get really lonely in Brandy Hall, that's where I lived. So I'm glad to have you for company as well, young Samwise." ))  
  
Sam lowered his head as more tears dripped down his cheeks. "Do you remember that day, Mister Frodo? When we met? I never knew what was going to happen then. I never knew that the darkness that left your eyes day by day would return, and that I, Samwise Gamgee, would end up going with you on this quest. But I knew I had found a true friend."  
  
Frodo did not seem to hear him. He gave a whimper, then was still. Sam tightened his grip on the cold, sullen flesh. "Please don't leave me."  
  
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